


Love Letters

by Imanerdandliketoread



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imanerdandliketoread/pseuds/Imanerdandliketoread
Summary: When Wirt meets a boy in the woods, they become close friends. But when Dipper and his family move to Piedmont, California after a year of being each others' best friends, how will Wirt and Dipper keep their friendship alive?Here's a hint: through lots of letters and a few secrets.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for nour386 on Tumblr for Pinescone Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy :)

_Run. Run. He has to get away. He has to get as far from there as possible or they might find him._ His small legs aren’t built for running fast and his chest heaves, but he _has_ to get away. 

Tears run down his face, blurring his vision. He stumbles past some trees at the edge of his neighbor’s yard, seemingly swallowed by the forest as the canopy blocks most of the sunlight from lighting his way. He tries to jump over a shallow creek but his foot slips in a clump of mud at the bank and he tumbles sideways. 

His arm aches, he’s covered in mud, and he’s half-submerged in a puddle in the middle of the woods. But they won’t find him. 

He knows it’s not a good idea to run blindly into the forest, he’s heard stories of kids who went missing over the decades. But that doesn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the betrayal that makes his chest ache and his breath catch on another sob. He sits up, curling his arms around his legs and pulling them to his chest.

She’s replacing papa, she doesn’t love him anymore. It took a year for her to get engaged after papa’s death. It _can’t_ be long before she decides to replace him too. 

He doesn’t realize anyone has found him until small shoes hesitantly step into sight. His head whips up, fearing that the intruder will send him back home, back to mama and her boyfriend. 

Shuffling in place, a young boy around his age with curly brown hair stares down at him. “You’re all wet. Did you fall?”

Wirt blinks up at him, jerks his head up and down once in a nod. “I don’t wanna go home, please don’t take me! I’ll stay out here.” 

“I won’t if you don’t wanna go. I was looking for frogs to show my sister. She likes animals but the forest scares her. Does the forest scare you? Is that why you’re crying? It’s all right, I’ll protect you, promise,” the boy blurts out in one breath. 

Wirt scowls. “I’m not scared of the forest, ‘s just trees. I don’t wanna go home,” he repeats, needing the boy in front of him to know how serious he is. 

“Well, you can’t stay all wet! My mom says that you’ll get sick if you’re all wet when it’s cold and it’s getting dark and you don’t have a jacket. You should come home with me. I can give you one of my jackets and if I bring a friend, maybe Mabel won’t be upset I didn’t find her a frog like I said I’d try to.” As he spoke, the boy inched closer, offering a hand to Wirt when he got close enough.

Wirt allows him to help him to his feet but doesn’t follow when the boy turns to head home. “It’s not good to follow strangers home,” He mumbles when the boy glances back at him.

The boy nods, head bobbing so hard his curls shift enough to show a peek of moles on his forehead. He reaches up to fix his hair before sticking the same hand out. “I’m Mason. Pines.” Wirt only blinks at his hand for a moment so he chimes in again, “You’re s’posta shake it like the grown-ups do.”

Wirt does, sniffling as he introduces himself. “I guess it’s fine now. Lead the way, just promise you won’t take me home!” 

Mason leads him through the forest, parallel to the creek he’d fallen in. A few minutes of awkward stumbling over tree roots and shrubs pass before the two find the edge of the forest, leading to a street Wirt thinks he’s seen when his mama walked him to school. The houses are a little fancier than his, with big porches that wrap around each house with vines creeping up the wood. 

They approach a house similar to the rest on the street, the biggest difference being the crayon art taped to nearly every available surface—windows, the front door, a few drawings even left half-finished on the floor of the patio itself, pinned down with rocks and children’s shoes. Most feature two figures, both vaguely resembling Mason, although one always has bright shirts and slightly longer hair than he thinks the figure that is Mason ever has. 

Mason must catch him looking as he hops up each step of the patio because he chirps a quick “Mabel’s always been better at drawing than me but it’s okay ‘cause I’m better in band,” before flinging the front door open. 

“HI MOM I’M HOME AND I BROUGHT A FRIEND,” he shouts as he grabs Wirt’s hand to tug him down a hallway to the left of the foyer. 

Mason’s mother yells something back but Wirt’s too distracted by Mason’s room to pay attention. Nearly every wall is covered in paintings of towering trees. The thing that startles Wirt the most is the occasional cryptid that peeks out from the woods: Bigfoot, Mothman, shadowy figures, and at least a dozen more that Wirt doesn’t recognize. 

Mason opens a door to the left of the entryway, revealing a small walk-in closet. He waves Wirt over, shoving a seemingly random collection of clothes into his arms. “Here! Wear what you like and just leave the rest on their hangers,” he ushers Wirt back out to the hallway and into a bathroom.

Wirt sorts the pile of clothes into three categories: cool-looking, won’t fit, and no thanks. He eventually stumbles back into Mason’s room with the pile of extra clothes, leaving a wet clump of clothes sitting in the sink. 

Mason pats the spot on the bed next to where he sits. “Wanna talk? Friends know stuff about each other, usually.” When Wirt nods, he continues, “How’s your family? My dad always asks that when he runs into a friend at the store.”

“I think my mama hates me. After my dad died, it was just us but now she has a boyfriend who she’s replacing dad with and she got happier and she’s going to replace me soon too so she’ll be even happier,” Wirt squints at the long sleeves of the shirt he borrowed so Mason doesn’t notice the tears welling up in his eyes again. 

Mason hums, small hands fidgeting in his lap. “If your mama hates you, why did you run away? She wouldn’t go looking if she didn’t love you,” he reasoned.

Wirt peeks over at Mason, takes in his thoughtful look and understanding words. “I guess… I thought I had to get away before she could get me. You might be right, maybe she doesn’t hate me,” he pauses, considering. “But I’m mad at her. For replacing dad.”

Mason reaches up and wipes away a tear Wirt didn’t know had escaped until then. “If you ever lost a stuffed animal you really loved, you wouldn’t wanna get a new one right away because you’d miss it, right? But after a while you’d be ready to get a new stuffed animal, one to snuggle when you’re sad and tell stories to and love a whole bunch. You don’t love the old stuffed animal less, you just decided to love another one too. 

“Your mama did that too, but instead of a stuffed animal, she decided to love a boyfriend. And you can do it too if you want to. But you just need to miss your dad for a while longer.” Mason’s nose wrinkles as he pauses to think. “Does that make sense? I just said what I thought Mabel’d say. She’s smart about that stuff.”

Writ doesn’t reply, just flings his arms around Mason and sobs into his shoulder. When Mason’s hand first settles on his shoulder, he tenses, but when Mason goes to move away he pulls Mason’s arms around him. 

When Wirt calms down enough, he pulls away. “Thank you, Mason.”

“It’s alright.”

A loud gurgle cuts through the quiet in the room, causing both boys to startle. They stare at each other for a moment before bursting into giggles. 

Wirt’s breaths hiccups as he stutters out “I’m hungry, I think!”

“That’s alright, you can stay for dinner!” Mason turns toward the bedroom door, shouting “Mom! Will dinner be done soon and can Wirt stay for dinner!” It’s less of a question than an exclamation.

Soft footsteps echo down the hallway before a brunette head peers in. The head belongs to a woman with soft, rounded features. Even sitting down Wirt can tell she has to be at least a foot shorter than his mama, although her dark blue blazer and black dress pants remind him of something she would wear when she needed to dress nicer than usual for work. 

She steps closer, smiling kindly at Wirt. “Hello there, I’m Mason’s mother. You can call me Michael. None of that stuffy Mrs. Pines stuff needed here. What’s your name, kiddo?”

Wirt accepts her extended hand. “M-my name’s Wirt. I hope it’s alright if I stay for dinner, I’d hate to bother you.”

“Ah, it’s no problem, dear. Mason doesn’t have many friends over so it’s nice to meet you. Are you a friend from school?”

Wirt looks at the floor. “Ah, no ma’am—I mean Michael. We met in the forest. I ran away and Mason found me in a creek.”

Michael’s smile dims for a moment as she processes this. “Ah, well I’m glad you’re safe. D’you want me to call your parents? Do you know their number?”

Wirt hesitantly nods so Michael extends a hand. “Well, why don’t you follow me to the kitchen and we’ll give ‘em a call? We’ll make sure they know you’re fine, then we can get some food in you. You _have_ had a busy day, it sounds like.”

When she picks up the phone, it sounds like his mama’s been crying. Guilt washes over him, it floods his lungs and he can’t speak. Michael gently settles her hand on his shoulder and he jolts. “H-hi mama, it’s me.”

She isn’t mad like he expects her to be. Instead, she cries and tells him they’re happy tears when he asks if she’s sad and she makes sure he’s safe. His fingers trail along the home phone holder as she speaks. 

When he mentions Mason, he catches a flash of brown hair in his periphery and waves his friend over. He chimes in when his mama pauses for breath, “Mama, say hi to Mason!”

Mason blushes, stuttering out a greeting when he takes the phone from Wirt. The three of them, with the occasional message from Michael that the boys relay to Wirt’s mother, talk until Michael announces that dinner is done. 

Mason drags his desk chair from his bedroom to sit next to him and both boys squish onto one side of the small dining table. Wirt sits to the left of Mason so their elbows don’t bump as they eat, Mason’s twin sister Mabel sitting on the other side of him. Michael sits across from them and Mason’s dad, who introduces himself as Markus, sits to Mason’s right. 

Wirt notices that Mabel avoids her carrots but practically inhales her asparagus so he sneaks some of his asparagus onto her plate while taking her carrots. Mabel grins at him, barely pausing to breathe as she continues her story about a butterfly she saw on the walk home. 

Wirt notices when Mason runs his fingers through his hair, revealing the full pattern on his forehead. “The Little Dipper!” Mason blushes, fingers quick to cover it up again. “It’s pretty.”

Mason’s nose scrunches. “Most people just make fun of it.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

While the conversation continues, Markus slips into the kitchen to bring out dessert. “Mickey’s good at cooking but I could never get a handle on it so I handle the baking,” he chuckles as he slides a slice of raspberry cheesecake in front of each person. “Wirt, it’s getting dark, would you like one of us to drive you home? Mason can come too if he wants.”

Wirt glances at Mason and when his friend beams at him he nods. “Thank you.”

Mason gets out of the car to walk Wirt to the door. When the door opens to reveal Wirt’s mother, she immediately flings her arms around both boys. “I’m glad you’re home, kiddo. Try to talk to me next time you get upset like that okay? We’ll work it out, no matter what it is.” She turns to face Mason, kneeling down to eye level. “And I want to thank you for being such a good friend to my boy. Feel free to come over any time.”

Both boys beam at her. 

Before he turns to leave, Wirt gives Mason a final hug. “I’ll see you soon, right? So I can get my clothes and you can get yours and if you want to you can spend the night and-” 

Mason interrupts him with a bright laugh. “Mhm! I’ll come over tomorrow, promise!”

“Bye, Dipper.”

Mason grins at Wirt. “I like that, Dipper. You can keep calling me that. Okay, I really gotta go now, it’s getting late and Mabel prob’ly misses me.”

Both boys frantically wave goodbye until Dipper’s car turns left, creeping out of sight. 


	2. Letters (to Wirt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter than the first because it's just three letters that Dipper has sent to Wirt over a span of several years. Enjoy :)

_Dear Wirt,_

_We finally got moved into our new house. It’s a little smaller than our old one, Mabel and I have to share a bunk bed. But it’s okay because she only listens to her boy bands with headphones in. And anyway, she doesn’t complain when I click my pen late at night so I try not to get on her case about her music anyway._

_It’s only been a week since we said goodbye but I miss you like crazy. There are some real tall trees over here. I’ll try to take some pictures to send to you. And there are a lot more mountains in California than in Massachusetts too. We haven’t gotten the landline connected yet so we’ll have to write for a while until then. Dad says there’s some stuff we have to prioritize over fixing that so it might be a few weeks still._

_Let me know how your summer’s going without me._

_P.S. Mabel told me to ask you to send pictures of baby Greg when you write back._

_-Dipper_

_Hey Wirt,_

_High school sucks! Mabel’s made a couple of friends, and some of her friends from middle school hang out with her, but it’s been three weeks and I’ve eaten lunch alone every day. The school library is big, though, so it isn’t all bad._

_This girl in my English class said that Dipper wasn’t a real name. It was hard not to yell at her. I knew it would make your mom upset to hear that I’d gotten in trouble, so I kept my mouth shut._

_Mabel and I’s birthday party went alright, but the best part was seeing the present you got me. How’d you even find a notebook with Mothman on it? You’re the best! I don’t know how I can top that, but there's still a few months ‘til your birthday, so I’ve got time to plan._

_How’s that girl you like, Sara? Have you talked to her yet? I know you’re worried about her not liking you but there’s nothing to worry about. Either she thinks you're cool and you’ve got yourself a girlfriend or she isn’t interested! Either way, I’ve got your back. The world isn’t going to end if you talk to her, I promise._

_P.S. Mabel told me to ask about how kindergarten is going for Greg. He’s growing up so fast! Also, she wants pictures of you guys when you write back._

_-Dipper_

_How’s it going, Wirt?_

_It’s been a bit since either of us has had time to write, even if we do still text all the time. The last time I sent you a letter, I was still working on college apps. I’ve finally gotten ‘em all sent in, just in time for me and Mabel to plan our Halloween costumes! I have an interview with MIT scheduled in November that Dad has been helping me rehearse for. It’s really stressful, but it’s a great school so it’s worth it._

_Your heart still set on Montserrat College of the Arts? I bet you’ll get in, you’re real smart about creative writing stuff already. Maybe if I get into MIT I can visit you!_

_I’ll let you know when I start getting responses. Make sure to keep me updated on how you’re doing too!_

_P.S. Mabel says not to stress. She’s sending you some fancy package, it’s got all sorts of self-care stuff, nice smelling hand sanitizers and lotions and candy. Also, she wants you to send a picture of Greg, show how tall he is. She’s afraid he’s going to outgrow us and when I told her that a 9-year-old isn’t going to be taller than us, no matter how tall his dad is, she didn’t listen._

_-Dipper_

_Hey Wirt!_

_I knew you could do it! Your fancy art school is so lucky to have you. You’re gonna be a great writer, I know it._

_I got into MIT! I’m working on replying to all my acceptances since I’ve made my decision on where I’m going. I have a surprise for you, but I can’t give it to you until after we both start school._

_I hope you haven’t bought a new reed yet since your last letter. I know there aren’t any real good music stores nearby. I’ve bought you a few from this really nice brand, sold from some fancy local music shop here. The band director thinks this place is the shit (Wirt’s mom, if you’re reading this, I didn’t say that)._

_We’re almost done with high school, isn’t that amazing?_

_P.S. Mabel says that she loves the poem you wrote for her. She was real upset after Francesca broke up with her and you managed to distract her from it for a while. Also, she wants you to say hi to Greg for her, even though I told her she could just call._

_-Dipper_

Wirt reads the most recent letter Dipper sent him before burying it at the bottom of his pile of letters. He pauses to read a few lines from some of his favorites before settling the lid of the shoebox in its place and sliding the box back into its corner of his closet. Each letter is in order, and he takes pride in never having lost one. 

Soon, he’ll have to pack for college, but he knows he’d get rid of everything else he might bring if it meant making sure each of these letters goes with him.


	3. On to College

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter! A few things to remember, when texting, Mabel doesn't use proper grammar, while Dipper does. Enjoy:)

Wirt slams the car door shut behind him. He throws open the trunk and grabs the lightest looking box, passing it to Greg’s waiting arms.

“So this is your artsy fartsy school! These are some nice looking apartment-dorm-things you get, huh Wirt!” It’s not a question, so Wirt just nods and lets his little brother continue, watching him closely to make sure he doesn’t trip. “Do you know anyone else who goes here? Dipper went to MIT right? That’s in Boston, right? You’ll visit him, right?”

Wirt hums a ‘yes’ to each of Greg’s questions. He tries to pay more attention to what Greg is rambling on about but his focus is drawn back to Dipper’s last letter. The last letter he sent before they both left for move in days at their respective colleges. He had mentioned leaving early so he could prepare his long-awaited surprise for Wirt, that he’d do his best to have it ready for Wirt in the next few days.

Wirt and Greg manage to haul all of Wirt’s boxes into his dorm room from the rental car. After their manual labor, Wirt treats Greg to some ice cream from a shop on campus. They sit in a little booth near the windows, Wirt people-watching as Greg talks.

When Wirt’s spoon grazes the bottom of his waffle bowl for the first time, he spots a head of curly brown hair that looks almost painfully familiar standing across the street and he has to remind himself that Dipper isn’t actually there. He focuses back in on the conversation only to notice that Greg has stopped talking.

His brother sits across from him, spoon dangling from his mouth as he types something into his phone, the one Greg’s dad had bought him when he started riding the bus by himself.

“Greg?”

He looks up, startled. “Hm? Oh! Brother o’ mine, I got a message from a friend, it’s nothing. Why don’t we sit here for another two to three perfectly normal minutes? You’ve got enough ice cream, right?”

Wirt’s brow furrows. Usually, at this point Greg is frantically trying to convince Wirt to give him his leftovers, to the point where Wirt started ordering too much ice cream. But now his little brother chatters on about how excited he is to finally be able to meet Dipper in person.

“Greg,” Wirt interrupts, “You do realize that Dipper’s busy moving into his own campus right? He won’t be available to visit for another few days, at least.”

“Oh, I think he’ll make time for his favorite people!” A voice chirps from behind him. Wirt’s head swivels around quickly at the familiar voice.

“Dipper! What are you doing here?” When did he stand up? “I thought—well, I assumed—you’re supposed to be at MIT! Not that I’m not happy to see you, I’m just-”

“Rambling. You’re rambling,” Dipper chuckles. “I never said I went to MIT. Anyways, this school’s got a pretty good photography program, and you’re here. How could I choose MIT over getting to see you practically any time I wanted? Greg practically begged me to visit as much as I could, anyways.”

Greg grins at Wirt when he glances back at his brother. “You… planned this? To surprise me?” Both Dipper and Greg nod enthusiastically.

Wirt flops back into the booth with a sigh. “You both are frustratingly wonderful. Sit down Dipper, we’re having ice cream. I got pistachio, I know it’s your favorite. I had them put snickers bits in though, sorry.”

-

Dipper sighs as he steps out of his dorm, heading to his first class of the day. He pauses as he hears a crinkle under his foot. Gently placed just outside of his door is a piece of paper. He picks it up to see it’s been folded into the shape of an envelope.

Unfurling it, his eyes land on vaguely familiar handwriting. It looks like Wirt’s, but if Wirt had decided to write at an angle, tightening the space between each letter to give the appearance of an anonymous note.

Then he processes the contents of the letter. It’s a poem. A… _love_ poem by the looks of it, but doubt settles into Dipper’s mind. Wirt has no reason to want to write him a love poem. He briefly considers the possibility of it being a prank, explaining the change in handwriting, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. Wirt doesn’t like pranks, there’s too many things that could go wrong, too many ways someone could accidentally be hurt, too many potentials for misunderstandings.

So why would there be a love poem on his doorstep? Maybe Wirt found a poem he’d read somewhere and wanted to share it with Dipper. But he wouldn’t need to hand write a copy to do so, they see each other every day.

Maybe it’s a _platonic_ love letter? The thought causes a tightness in his chest, but it’s the only explanation he can come up with. He decides not to bring it up unless Wirt does, or play the role of confused boy with a secret admirer if push comes to shove.

He’ll just ask mabel what it means if he gets another ione. She’s much better at interpreting emotions like this.

He gets another letter. And another. And another, and another, and another, until he has a sock drawer practically filled with letters. It’s been three weeks.

He sends a text to Mabel. _Is this a love letter???_ Accompanied by images of the first three letters, unfolded on his dresser where he had made space by pushing a handful of dice onto the floor.

His phone chimes just as he sets it down on the bed beside him. _Is that wirts handwriting?_

_That’s not what I asked._

_But yes it is._

_oHMYGOD WIRTS IN LOVE WIth YOU!!!_

He stares at the screen blankly for a while, only shaken from his trance when his phone vibrates with a series of texts.

_brobro??? You there?_

_Did he send any more or are those hte only 1’s???_

_Dipper?_

_I can see that youre reading these you butt answer me_

Dipper finally responds. _He’s sent me a whole bunch, just over the last few weeks. There’s almost three dozen._

_Show me!!!!_

He carefully takes images of the next five, hands shaking and heart racing. _What do I do? Wirt can’t be in love with me!_

_Why not??? Hes like your best friend if he was going to fall in love with anyone and write them sappy poetry itd be you_

_Also these are really good_

_Are you going to respond? You said its been like three weeks??_

_Respond? Mabel are you crazy? I can’t do that! What if he realizes he doesn’t like dating me, or I embarrass him or something? I can’t risk it_

_Stop being a coward dumbdumb he obviously wants to date you_

_And besides, hes been your best friend for the better part of a decade if you havent embarrassed him into fleeing for the hills yet i dont think theres much you can do now_

Dipper blinks. He’s used to Mabel’s blunt way of speaking, and in fact appreciates it in this instance. _Thanks Mabes. But what do I do?_

_ooOOOoh you should do something nerdmantic for him back!!!_

_Nerdmantic?_

_Yeah! Nerdmantic. Its like nerd romantic_

_Nerd romantic? Like write him a poem back?_

_Pfff absolutely not brobro thats his thing not yours_

It takes a minute for Mabel to send another message. _Maybe give him a collage of like, moments that you felt happy with him? Take a buttload of photos_

Dipper eyes his camera, hanging from the hook on the back of his door by the strap. He sends one last message before rushing out the door. _You’re a genius, thanks_.

Dipper approaches Wirt’s dorm a week later, massive scrapbook in hand. He knows Wirt has a class right now, knows the perfect time to drop off the large present soon enough to the end of his last class so it’s more likely to still be there when Wirt gets back but with enough time for him to safely get out of the dorm before Wirt arrives.

He’s careful to set the scrapbook down with the name scribbled on top facing him, so it’ll be the first thing Wirt sees when he notices it. He picks a stray piece of lint off of the cover and rearranges an off center page so its contents don’t bend. Then he stands up and rushed to the door.

-

Wirt readjusts the strap of his satchel after digging through the front pocket to locate his keys. He repeats a verse he thought of on the walk home over and over again, another poem for Dipper half-written in his mind.

The verse dissipates as soon as his eyes land on the scrapbook with his name written in Dipper’s handwriting on the cover. He gently grabs it, blindly unlocking the front door as he struggles to tear his eyes from the book in his hands.

He flops down onto the nearest surface, a table, and gently opens the cover.

Inside, rests a photocopy of the first letter he ever wrote Dipper, a ‘practice letter’ he had written to explain his idea to write letters to each other after Dipper moves away.

He flips the page. There, on the backside of the first page, a photograph is held in a plastic sleeve. It’s of Wirt, age 10, sitting in front of a Walgreens with only the W of the sign visible, head thrown back in laughter and eyes crinkling with joy.

The next page is a copy of the second letter Wirt wrote to Dipper. It appears to be in perfect condition, but the photocopy has a single letter highlighted in forest green highlighter. An i.

Every page is either a photograph of Wirt or a letter he sent to Dipper, each containing a single letter that has either been cropped to be visible or highlighted on the paper.

Wirt rushes to his nightstand to grab the small pocket sized notebook sitting there. He flips from page to page, admiring the dedication and skill while also recording the message. W-I-L-L-Y-O-U-G-O-O-U-T-W-I-T-H-M-E-W-I-R-T-?-L-O-V-E-D-I-P-P-E-R

Will you go out with me? Love, Dipper. Wirt stares at the message written in his neat handwriting. He needs to reply, how does he reply?

He scrambles for his phone, rushing so much he needs to type in his password three times before it unlocks. He opens up his contacts and finds Dipper’s name, hitting the call button.

It rings one and a half times before he picks up. He was waiting. “Hel-”

“Yes, of course!” Wirt gasps. “Dipper, this is beautiful, I love it. I love you, you’re amazing! I can’t believe-! Some of these photos are almost a decade old.”

“I’ve been taking photos of you and saving them for almost a decade. Wasn’t hard, considering I’ve been in love with you almost as long,” He chuckles awkwardly into his phone’s microphone.

“Dipper! I-oh, you… I’m coming over! I need to kiss you!” Wirt exclaims. “Can… Is it alright if I kiss you?”

He hears Dipper inhale shakily. “It’s more than alright. Maybe when you come over we can figure out where our first date’ll be?”

Wirt grabs his keys off the table where he left them and rushes out the door, barely pausing to lock it behind him. “I-I’m on my way!”

**Author's Note:**

> Find more of my writing on tumblr at endoftheworldpaul


End file.
